Life is Tough
by Martin Hamilton
Summary: This is the first story in  hopefully  a series. It is about a young boy realizing how hard life is in the world of Mount&Blade. Follow his adventures to the end of the  Mount&Blade  world and back again.
1. Losing a Father

**This is my **first **Mount&Blade story. To all those readers out there: please contribute constructive criticism. I only want my stories to be better. Enjoy!**

A dusty street in a dusty city. All the houses in it except one were shackles of falling down ruin. They gave all they had to the weary look of a life-tired city.

The last house, however, was different. It was not dusty, it was not falling down, and it was not, certainly not, in ruin. It seemed to have been built up recently, by someone with strong hands. It you look closely, a stepladder and some tools can be seen outside the front door. A banner flies high over the roof, showing a black raven and a blue axe on a white background. It the sign of one of the two lords of the town.

Night falls as a fully grown man trudges out of the door and down the street. He is Lord Ferret from Rivacheg. His family has been rich since he can remember. He is slightly old, and walks with a small limp. In the clean house behind him he leaves a son, 18, just at the threshold of manhood. At the moment he is off to see the local merchant about a horse for the son. Money is not a problem: he will pay whatever the price is but he wants a good charger.

Just as the man rounds the end of the street, he is ambush by a group of hideous cuthroats. He is quickly bound and carried away.

**The next morning...**

A boy steps out of the house, calling for his father. He is young, and looks as if not ready for manhood. But however much he calls, his father does not come. He turns, and with a sad face, walks back inside.

He knows of the news that has been circulating around. The news that a gang of looters have been sneaking round the city. They are looking for unguarded nobles, rich men, bishops. The boy had told his father about the rumour, but his father had dismissed it as a lie.

The boy walks to the end of the street. He looks at the ground. The dust is kicked up, a there are traces of blood. There are stones lying in disturbed positions along the path.

Cursing his father's captors, and planning his revenge on them, he packs his bags and leaves the house the next hour. He holds a war axe which he lifts to the sky and shouts to the gods. He also carries his fathers bow, which he plans on using during his long an treacherous journey.

The young boy, Aidan, sets off.


	2. A King's Refusal

I was born a Vaegir, but in my heart I was a Nord. My foster parents were Rhodoks, I looked like a Swadian, but acted like a Khergit. One question: Who was I?

I was Aidan Haranson, and although I was a Haranson, Haran just adopted me. No one knew my true parents. But I still loved Hadan. Ever since his wife had died, I was there to keep him company. He taught me in the way of the merchant, the leader, the sword, and the horse. So when I finally came to be a man, I was well rounded on all sides of skill.

By a real test of my skill came when Haran was captured. I found out when I woke up, one Saturday morning. It was usually the day that we both slept in, so when I came downstairs I was not surprised to find that Haran was not waiting for me. However at eight o clock, when we really should have been starting breakfast, I went into his room to wake him. It was then that I found out that he was not there.

I went out into the street, calling him. Either he wasn't listening, or he din't hear me. Or he had gone.

Running back inside, I retrieved his great war axe. It was heavy, and had belonged to Haran's Great grandfather, but had to do. I snatched my hunting bow, a fresh pair of clothes, whatever meager coin was in the safe, and left. Left that old house which had been my home for near 18 years.

Then, lifting the axe to the sky and calling upon the gods that I would rescue Haran, I went down the street to my destiny.

**Just outside Rivacheg...**

The people who captured were just looters or another class of bandits that were roaming the city, I thought as I trudged out the gate of my hometown. But even so, looters were dangerous... they came in numbers of six or more. So how was I going to beat a force like that? Easy - Raise an army.

But then a thought suddenly occurred to me - they would be holding him at their hideout or base. There would be no way to defeat a hundred or so of them. But there was - a lord's army.

If I could but hire a lord's army, I could rescue Haran easily. A lord's army? No. I couldn't get one of those. But the King's? Yes. Haran had often dealt with King Ragnar, and had done him a few favours. The King would certainly sympathise if one of his friends was captured.

And so I traveled to Sargoth, to see the King. It would an easy trip - two days on horseback - nothing could go wrong. But although I did not know it, fate laughed in my face.

**The next day, noon...**

Although Haran had trained well in horsemanship, I found riding was hard work. I had been in the saddle most of the morning, and was tiring of it. I decided to stop, make camp, and rest for half an hour or so.

But I was highly mistaken. Unknown to me, a novice traveller, a group of sea raiders were silently creeping along behind me. Almost as soon as I made camp, they pounced upon the opportunity and ambushed me.

All eight of them came from different directions. Picking up the short bow, I nocked an arrow to the string, and fired at one of them. But it was a quick shot, and its aim went awry. However the man stopped and hesitated for a second. Not letting this chance get by me, I fired again. This time the shaft plunged into his right arm, making him drop his sword.

I drew Haran's axe from my sack but I was too late. As I had fired the shots, another raider had crept up behind me. I received a strong blow on the head which knocked me down.

But luck was still with me. A third raider had thrown a stone at me just before I was hit. As my chest crumpled to the ground, the stone whizzed over me and hit the second man just below his neck.

Ouch, I thought. That must have hurt. But I was not there to think. Picking up the axe once again, I struck the man full on the head with the sharp of the blade. I heard the resounding _crack_ of his skull breaking and knew that that was the end of him. His brains spilled out on the dry ground. Two down, six to go.

Sadly, that was as far as it went. The rest of the sea raiders poured onto me, and collapsed under them.

**A dark, musty, caravan, somewhere in the Kingdom of the Nords...**

I found myself in a dark box, rattling along a road. The caravan was small, and smelt of human waste. There was hay spread out along the bottom of it, but it was certainly not for comfort.

They had captured me. They had taken me away from my journey to the King. They were taking me to their hideout, where I would meet Haran's remains and share his fate. I lay in this sad mood for a long time.

When I finally woke again, it was because of the light. It was creeping in through the caravan door. I snuck along my knees and hands to it. It was coming through a small crack the size of my thumb. As I went closer and put a hand on the door to take a better look, I nearly lost my balance. The door was unlatched!

The small hook at the bottom which had kept it closed my whole horrible journey had come undone! I was free!

But just as I was about to hop out into the sunshine to enjoy myself, I realised that I couldn't take this as easy as I liked. The guard could see me, and I could be annihilated on the spot. And so I listened.

Interestingly enough, the only sound I could hear was snoring. I crept out.

'Stealing' my money from the caravan, and taking back the weapons, I sneaked from camp. My horse would have to stay behind.

**Two miles later...**

I was weary, and sun was setting. I could not see in the darkness ahead, and so decided to stop and stay the night in a close field. I pitched camp ear an old oak tree.

When I woke, the sun was already up. I was late on my journey! I might not reach Sargoth by the end of the day. I lept on my horse.

Galloping across the grassy wastes, I made for the city at full speed

**After a long journey, stretching across the rest of the day...**

Sargoth, the capital city of the kingdom of Nords, glowed crimson in the sunset. Close though I was, and hard though I had ridden, I could not stay there, and so giving up all hopes of a comfortable bed and food, I made camp for the second time that day.

Curling into my sleeping bag, I wondered if I could ever rescue Haran. But I told myself not to doubt. It would be tough, but I would pull through. I smiled to myself. Determination always brings success. Especially with a man like King Ragnar at side.

My last memory was of hard ground beneath me and only one star in the sky.

**A cold and frosty morning...**

As I woke up, I wondered how it was that I came to be here. Then it all came flooding back to me like a raging river. Picking up my belongings, I moved on to the city gates.

They were crowded as I pushed my way in. It took me almost half an hour to get ten metres forward! But as I cleared myself of the rush hour traffic, the street got clearer, and I was free. I immediately made my way to the imperial palace and the lord's hall, where I knew I would find the king.

I was kept a long time before I could see the king. But when I finally did, It was not what I expected.

"Come in, O visitor," spoke he who I had come too see.

"I am no visitor," I said proudly. "I am Aidan Kereda, Haranson," I held my nose in the air.

"Aidan Haranson? I have not heard of you before." Said His Majesty.

"I will introduce myself. My true parents are unknown, but Haran Jelinnason adopted me and he was as a father to me."

"Was?"

"He was taken away by a band of cut-throats but four days gone."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear it." The King turned away, his face in sorrow. "He was a good friend of mine, and he had the best trading skills. Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked.

"Yes." I spoke up strongly, lifting my chest and raising my head, preparing for the shock the King was to get. "I want you to help me release him."

The King looked up. "That will be hard. You will need an army."

I nodded my head. "And that is I came to you. He has done many favours for you in the past, and has been a good friend. Can't you now do a favour for him, save his life? He needs your help."

The King turned toward his table, and sighed. "Come, Aidan."

I came. We sat down.

"I want you to understand that the life of a king is very hard and busy. I must manage my kingdom, my lords, my armies. I must reconsider the economy, I must engage in politics, I must please my wife. Even though Haran was my friend and did me some favours, I did some back to him. I consider that as a recompensation for what he has done."

I turned away in disgust. "But can't you help a friend? His life is in danger!" I replied angrily.

"No, Aidan. I am sorry, but I cannot."

With that I left the throne room.

**Outside Sargoth...**

I still could not believe what Ragnar had said to me. It was impossible. How could he turn away the life of a friend, one who he had known for many years? But I knew that the King had many other things on his mind, many other things that troubled him more than the fate of one merchant.

I sighed, jumped on my horse and rode off into the wilderness. I would have to take back Haran by myself.


	3. The village of Mazen

**Continuation of Aidan's journey...**

I decided to travel to Wercheg to meet the famed Lord Irya. I had heard that he welcomed travelers, and I thought that there might be a task that I could help him with. Anyway, there was no point in not trying!

Halfway through the morning, I came upon the town of Mazen. My first time being in a village, and I being the adopted son of nobility, I went straight to the village elder. As I past the poor peasants and other serfs that worked there, I noticed them staring at me with my war axe and bow. By the time I reached the old man, there were five young boys and a girl following me. I ignored them and continued towards the leader of the village.

He waas a tall man. He had a short, grey beard, and his hair was long at the back. He wore tatty clothes, and carried a walking stick. I could tell this man had seen many summers.

Sucking in my breath and trying to sound as brave and fearless as I could, I spoke to him. "My name is Aidan Haranson. I am a traveler."

The man slowly turned his face to look at me. "Why are you here?" He asked in a crackly voice.

"Well, er... I wanted to buy goods?" I really wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but my food supply was running low.

At the sound of the word 'buy', the elder's eyes lit up. "We will be glad to sell it to you." He said. Then, he started walking across the yard to the warehouses. As he past me, his thin shoulder brushed against mine.

I turned around, to follow. Instead, the small crowd of six teenagers stood in front of me. As I looked at them, the girl's cheeks flushed bright red, and she bent over. One of the boys spoke up. "Sir, we were looking at your weapons. We thought they looked good."

I raised my eyebrows.

Another boy spoke. "We dream of fighting like you, lord." He said.

The girl, about 21, straightened herself up, chest out, facing me, and said, "We wondered if we could join you, sir. We have weapons of our own."

I considered it for a moment. If I was to take back Haran, I would need an army. If I couldn't borrow the king's, I would have to raise one of my own.

"Alright. You can come." I gestured at the boys. Then I looked at the girl. I sized her up. She wore a beautiful dress, and had wonderful hair and a shapely figure. It would be a shame for her to lose that in becoming a warrior. With a sad tone, I said, "Not you."

She turned away, silently accepting what I had said. It was only then I realised that I had denied her her future.

**Later, with the village elder...**

"This is all we have," he said, pointing to some bags in the back of the small cavern.

I looked through them. There were sacks of salt, furs and tools. There was a small bit of food, and I picked up a piece of smoked fish. Out of interest, I asked the elder how much the tools were. I was nearly thrown off my feet when he answered, "Why, but 189 denars a pack, my lord."

189 denars? For tools? I would be ripping them off. In Rivacheg, where I used to live with Haran, I used tools quite a lot. Amongst the many trades I was taught, he tried to teach me craftmanship. However, the way I tried to make objects often sent me down to the market for newer tools which were not bent or broken. There I found that even at the cheapest, the tools could fetch a good 410. If I sold the tools there, I would be making a lot of profit.

"Do you want to buy them my lord?" The elder's word pulled me out of my trance.

"I be delighted." I replied. Picking up two of the tools, I handed them to him.

"What about the smoked fish?"

The smoked fish? Subtracting the tool money from the cash I had, I realised that 57 denars were left. The smoked fish was 143. I couldn't buy it. But anyway, I already had some food. In my pack.I paid the man 378, and turned to leave. Suddenly I remembered something.

"Those children I saw wandering around." I said.

"What about them?"

"They said they wanted to join me, and I said I would talk to you about it."

"My Lord, in this village we are free to do as we want. I only sort out matters that need to be sorted out. Those children have the liberty of deciding their own future."

So it was with a happy heart that I went to tell the five young boys my decision.

**Outside Mazen...**

I had just paid the boys 10 denars each, and they had brought their weapons. We were setting out from the village.

"OK guys, we're heading towards Wercheg. We're going to stop there to see Lord Irya.

"Wercheg? I know where that is!" Cried one of the boys as he spurred his horse into a gallop.

And it was in this tiring pace that we reached Wercheg that afternoon.


End file.
